New York State of Mind
by DeeDeePicklez
Summary: "Depressed dih-prest ADJ-sad and gloomy." She almost laughed at the banality of it, how terribly ordinary the explanation was. As if the weather suddenly became overcast while at the beach, or a friend canceled plans just when you had finished getting ready. How could anything so mundane compare to what she was feeling?


Late in the fall of her freshman year they had all decided she was depressed.

It was as though they had watched the same sad Lifetime movie that instigated some idealistic notion of an intervention; each of them buying in to the same romantic thought that banding together for the same purpose would awaken some spark in her that had been dormant for so long.

But she wasn't depressed. Not _really._

She looked it up to be sure.

"_Depressed [dih-prest]ADJ - sad and gloomy."_

She almost laughed at the banality of it, how terribly ordinary the explanation was. As if the weather suddenly became overcast while at the beach, or a friend canceled plans just when you had finished getting ready. How could anything so mundane compare to what she was feeling?

For as long as she could remember she had always collected and cherished words. She would read a passage in a book or find a quote from a favorite author, a fortune cookie that made her smile or a line in a play that made her question everything. She would write them in her journal, keeping it as a kind of museum for herself. Tucking it away for a time when she would need it for guidance or reinforcement, for when she needed to be humbled or inspired.

She remembered reading and subsequently documenting once,

"_Everybody's hell is different. It's not all fire and pain. The real hell is your life gone wrong."_

And that was what this was, she decided. It wasn't some gloomy beach day or an outfit wasted, it was hell. It was her life gone wrong.

She had planned it all out so meticulously, so many different times. She had adapted at the beginning of their senior year, abandoning her instincts to run from him and from Lima and never look back. When he requested she say yes to his heartfelt proposal and modest ring, she had discarded all of her notions about what was normal and expected. When he thought his dreams might take him someplace else, she let her firm grip on New York loosen ever so slightly, promising him her support and amending her definition of home. And when he was rejected, she accepted that she would still reach all of her goals, it would just take a little longer to get there.

She had been resilient and accommodating and flexible time and time again, he was the only person she was willing to change for. But this? How could she be understanding when she was so blindsided? She didn't plan for this; he hadn't given her the chance. This wasn't the reality she had constructed after another curve ball was thrown their way, this was the life she vanished from her brain the day she said yes to his shaky hands and tearful eyes. All of the times she had planned and adjusted and dreamed; it was all melding together in a torturous way, forcing her to walk through a life that didn't seem like hers anymore.

So no, she wasn't depressed and she wasn't going to let some delusional, half-assed intervention tell her otherwise.

"I'm not depressed, Kurt. And frankly I'm insulted that you would misinterpret my focus and determination as such."

"And yes, dad, daddy, maybe I have become slightly "cold" or "hard" since I moved to New York. But again, I am putting all of my energy into this endeavor. I refuse to let my emotions get in the way of my aspirations."

She stood up from the couch and glanced at Kurt first, and then at the computer screen where her dads were crammed together, looking into their webcam with distressed, concerned eyes.

"The bottom line is, I appreciate your concern. All of you. But it is both unfounded and unnecessary. I am fine, and will continue to be fine. I love you all. I am going to go study now, I will see you soon."

She closed the computer screen, nodding slightly at Kurt before heading towards her room, letting out a huge breath as she stood with her back against the door, hoping that she had honed her acting skills enough to be convincing.

It wasn't like she could tell them she was living in her own version of hell. But she was _not_ depressed. She wasn't.

….

She had never considered herself a selfless person. If you'd ask her, she'd tell you that herself. But when she met him, she had changed in some essential way. It hadn't been instant, and it hadn't been completely, but having Finn Hudson collide into her life had been a transformation of some kind.

She was selfish, and she never lost that instinct; not when it came to stardom or success or the spotlight. But when it came to Finn Hudson, she threw all thoughts of herself to the background. He was the first person to walk side by side with her, navigating through all the insecurities and confusion. When she was still, Finn was still. When she raged, Finn withstood. When she hungered for his mouth, his touch, he kissed and touched her. And it was enough, it was always enough.

Her life with him had become something of a balancing act. Her instincts pushing her to be ruthless, her dreams fanning a fire inside of her that made her see with blinders on. Versus him, grasping her hand and reminding her to value the gifts other people could give, awakening a desire and passion to be a vital part of the world around her, to give more than just her voice.

The hell she was living now was something of an extension of this balancing act. Because she had conceded to his insight, she fought against all of her instincts. Even though she could still feel her merciless intuition tugging at her edges, she had become a web of sympathies and empathies, with Finn Hudson lying at the very center of it all. And now he was asking her to revert back to the person she had folded up and placed in a drawer.

And so her life had become a series of decisions and experiences that were weighed on some sort of invisible scale of Rachel Berry past and present, and of Finn Hudson, and dreams and regrets and love and loss.

She would go to auditions and silence his voice in the back of her head when she saw a girl practicing with the wrong monologue. He would have encouraged her to be kind and compassionate. "Wouldn't you want someone to tell you?" he would say earnestly, nudging her towards the girl with supportive eyes.

She would be in a fit of hysterics over not getting a part and imagine what he would say to calm her down if he were there. "Rach, just breathe. It's ok. You'll get the next one." He'd smile before opening his arms out and holding her close until her breathing returned to normal.

She'd lay in bed in the dark and concoct entire scenarios of the life in New York they came so close to living. Of their tiny apartment, and Saturday nights alone eating take out and enjoying each other's company. And late nights in the library before finals, and afternoons meeting Kurt for lunch.

She thought of him so often it scared her. She felt pathetic and simple and crazy most of the time because all she wanted to do was what he had asked of her. She wanted to be able to let go and chase the dreams she still wanted so badly, but she couldn't. Instead she found herself in a constant battle of being reminded of him and berating herself for thinking of him at all. Surely, there were other things to think about, but avoiding him in her thoughts was impossible.

He was her life line for so long and once he was gone she realized that she had allowed him to take over her life in a way that she was so steadfastly trying to avoid in the first place.

Because in the beginning, the very beginning, before she could make sense of any of it, she often felt insane. Not because of the obvious stuff, like crazy cat calendars, or falling for him before she even really knew who he was; but because he had completely washed out any semblance of normalcy in her life. Her neurotic daily routines and schedules and rehearsals and strict rules she laid out for herself, they all went out the window the day he told her he could feel her voice in his heart. And doing no more than staring at him for an hour in glee club was enough to send her mad. Because a love like this is surely madness, she told herself time and time again.

….

Her fathers were right when they had told her, as diplomatically as possible, that being in New York had hardened her. It was part of her strict guidelines for living life without him. Because if she actually let herself feel it, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, every minute of every day would simply be agonizing.

There were times when she couldn't stop it from bubbling up to the surface. She was determined and stubborn and resilient, but she was also human. No matter how thick-skinned she tried to be, sometimes she felt like the millions of electrified nerve endings in her body were all suddenly open and exposed and feeling way too much. Try as she might to keep from feeling pain, sometimes it was merely unavoidable. And at the end of a horrendous day, or after another night of sleeplessness, when a memory hit her so hard she couldn't breathe; the only thing left was just to feel. Her penchant for dramatics didn't help either. Those times she granted her emotions permission to come out; they came out with a vengeance. She fancied herself something of a masochist in these moments. It wasn't enough to hear a song and miss him, or cry while watching a sad movie. Rachel Berry went theatrical even in times of great despair. She would go up to the roof of her apartment building, and gaze at the stars - her star and cry at the injustice of it all. She would think of the speech that accompanied that Christmas gift and smile, only to remember how he had taken it all back. She would kick rocks and scream at the sky until her throat burned, and then she would scream some more for good measure. She would sit in her room with all the lights off, only a single candle lit to cast threatening shadows on the wall. She'd press play on her "Glee Club" playlist and torture herself with all the questions she refused to ask herself in the light of day. What was the point of doing anything now? What had she done to deserve this? What kind of cruel person would pull the rug out from under her just when she had thought she had gotten everything she wanted? Why was she still in love with that person? Would the pain ever go away? What was the point of being successful in her career if she couldn't share it with him? And when she was feeling the worst, she would lie in bed and dial the number she couldn't manage to forget. She would listen to him breathe on the other end, her mind swarming with countless things to say, none of them ever reaching her lips. She's home for Thanksgiving and once she is given the all clear by Kurt; Finn won't be home for the holiday, she allows herself to go over. If sitting in her room in New York is painful, then sitting in his in Lima is excruciating. Everything looks exactly the same and she can't decide if it is soothing or sickening. Something new catches her attention, a small book on his nightstand. She doesn't even think of how he might feel about her invasion of privacy before she opens it. She squints at his messy handwriting and recognizes a quote from a Journey song and a passage from _Catcher in the Rye_ and she realizes with a start that this is his own little museum of reinforcements and inspiration. It hurt her heart to think of him reading and learning and thriving without her, she was about to throw the book when she noticed a certain quote,

"_There's always a way, when things look like there's no way, there is a way. To do the impossible, to survive the unsurvivable, there's always a way."_

It gave her grim satisfaction to know that he was in the same kind of pain she was.

She returns to New York on a Sunday night and reaches for her journal immediately. She feels different; she's still in pain, unbearable pain. She still feels as though she is living in a life gone wrong, but somehow being in Lima, in his room, with his desire to survive, to reach the light at the end of the tunnel; for whatever reason, it gives her hope. Because somewhere, deep inside, where her most honest feelings lay, she knows that at the end of all this, when they have survived, that they'll find a way to be together. And so she puts pen to paper,

_**"**_**_The ties that bind_****_ us are sometimes impossible to explain. They connect us even after it seems like the ties should be broken. Some bonds defy distance and time and logic; Because some ties are simply ... meant to be."_**

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**The End! Just my version of Rachel's mindset post- Goodbye. The first Quote is from "What Dreams May Come" the second two are from Greys Anatomy… Hope you enjoyed! Please let me know if you did!****_  
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